Even a Slytherin Needs Love
by Bookboy42
Summary: Gilbert has always been alone. And why? Because he's a pureblood Slytherin with a striking resemblance to a certain dark lord. He starts his fifth year at Hogwarts expecting it to be like every year before- getting beat up, exclusion, talking to the paintings. He never expected a pair of brothers from across the pond to change his life. PruCan, bullying, eventual yaoi, eventual M
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to my next fanfiction! Yes, I know I have yet to work on White Roses and Iron Crosses, but I'm working on re-doing the plot on that one a bit and will be adding soon.

Until then, have fun with Even a Slytherin Needs Love! (Feel free to suggest better titles.) This is set shortly after the Second Wizarding War, sometime between the ending of the seventh book and the epilogue, and it's important to note that North America had absolutely nothing to do with the war (they barely noticed it) and uses a completely different schooling system from the one in Europe.

Updates will probably be erratic and will depend a lot on how this is received, so please comment/favorite/follow!

ooooo

Platform 9 and 3/4 was busy and bustling, permeated with steam from the Hogwarts Express. It was the first day of the new school year, and Hogwarts' students were eager to return to school. Among them, a family of blondes stood, exchanging farewells.

"Now you two," a short but proud looking blonde man with monstrous dark eyebrows above his poisonous green eyes said to the two teenage boys before him, "remember to behave, and go to bed at a reasonable time, and don't eat too much junk food, and study hard, and Alfred remember to feed Libby, and-"

"Dad," one of the boys interrupted him with a fond grin, "We'll be fine, stop nagging."

"I am not nagging!" Arthur snapped back, his irritated expression having no effect on the elder of his twin sons.

"You were nagging, cher," the elegant Frenchwoman beside him concurred with her son, brushing non-existent dust from the younger of the twins' shoulders. She ignored her husband's sputtering to hug her sons, both at once, telling them, "Have fun, mes bèbès! Try to find yourselves a couple of pretty British girlfriends, hm?" Both her sons rolled their eyes at her while grinning in a practically identical expression.

"Sure, Mom," Alfred, the elder twin, assured her.

"We'll e-mail and call every weekend, and be home for Christmas," her younger son, Matthieu, added.

Francoise beamed, tapping her cheek and demanding, "Kiss!"

Alfred bent to lightly peck her cheek, murmuring, "Love ya, Mom."

Matthieu copied his brother's actions on the opposite cheek, though he said, "Je t'apprécie vraiment, Mama."

"Oh, I'll miss you, mes bèbès!" Francoise burst, getting a tissue out of her purse and carefully dabbing away her overdramatic tears so she didn't smear her makeup.

Arthur rolled his eyes this time, clapping a hand on a shoulder each. "Goodbye, boys. You should get on the train now, it will be leaving soon." The brothers grinned and hugged him too, not releasing him until he gave in and hugged them back.

"Bye Dad!" they called in unison, waving to their parents before boarding the surprisingly posh train. "Nice," Alfred commented, Matt nodding in agreement. Every car except the ones in the back, filled with baggage, were bustling with activity, mostly that of teenagers visiting. It was a lot like the school bus, except bigger. For a while they wandered around, looking for a place to sit and eventually finding one in the form of an empty compartment. While Alfred hunkered down in the compartment and did everything but pee on the seats to claim it in the name of the Kirkland-Bonnefoy brothers, Matt ditched his backpack with him and went hunting in the car designated for pets, eventually finding a medium sized carrier with a maple leaf sticker on it. He grabbed it, dragging the heavy carrier back through the still busy corridors to his compartment.

Inside, Alfred was already slouched on one of the benches, his trusty gameboy (which he had since he was eight and had affectionately dubbed 'Jennie' when he was twelve) already in hand. He took one look at his brother's burden and groaned, moving his feet up onto the bench out of habit. "C'mon, Mattie, not the mutant!"

Matthieu glared at his brother. "It's your fault Kuma hates you. And he doesn't like being cooped up for too long, you know that." Ignoring his brother's whining, childish protests, nimble fingers undid the latch of the wire and plastic cage, the door swinging back to allow a slightly waddling pure white fuzzball about the size of a medium/small dog to tumble out. The animal took a moment to right istelf, eventually coming to sit on its haunches, revealing itself to be a small bear.

Once upon a time, it had been a fat, fluffy cat, but when they were seven, Alfred- being the tard he was- stole their father's wand and kidnapped Kuma, experimenting on the cat for several hours before Matt rescued him. Unfortunately, Alfred had somehow accidentally made a few of the changes permanent.

"I'm hungry," Kuma announced. That was one of them. Thankfully at least the fur had been fixable- those hot pink and mustard yellow stripes had been terribly tacky and very hard on the eyes. Francoise had almost had a heart-attack at the lack of taste displayed by her own child.

Matt rolled his eyes and picked Kuma up, sitting down on the bench across from his brother, setting the cat/bear next to him and reaching for his backpack. He pulled out a Tupperware container of cat food, opening it and setting it in front of the tom. His cat placated, Matt retrieved his book and MP3 player from his bag, slipping on the headphones and settling in for the trip, a hand absently stroking between rounded ears.

His trip into the magical worlds of JR Tolkien was interrupted when he heard rushing footsteps coming down the corridor. Both brothers looked toward the door, pausing their electronics to hear better. Several other sets of footsteps were hot on the heels of the first. There was a crashing thud accompanied by some noisy cursing, apparently the first person had tripped. Alfred stood with a curious look in his eye, setting aside his game and going to the door, Matt right behind him.

ooooo

mes bèbès = My babies

Je t'apprécie vraiment = I love you too (familial)


	2. Chapter 2

So here's the next chapter of Even a Slytherin Needs Love! Enjoy!

* * *

Gilbert breathed hard as he ran, holding his smarting elbow. One of those dickheads back there had shoved him into the wall and he had banged it pretty hard, he was pretty sure he got his funnybone. His jaw was also aching, it was probably going to bruise. He would have stayed and fought longer, but even the cocky Gilbert Beilshmidt knew when he was well and truly outnumbered. Twelve against one was never good odds. Gilbird, his tiny little owl, fluttered madly next to his head, barely keeping pace with him, Gilbird's unusual bright yellow coloring making him look like a big snitch.

_Goddamn it, we haven't even gotten to school yet! Can't a guy visit with his little brother first?!_ he thought furiously to himself before he tripped in a flurry of curses, banging his elbow again. The guys who had been chasing him quickly caught up, kicking him back down before be could get up and pinning him with a foot resting on his chest. Preparing for the inevitable beating, Gilbert glared and snarled venomously at them, still trying to hit kneecaps and shins. He couldn't look weak- that would just fuel the fire.

"Hey! What the fuck?!"

Everyone turned to look at the speaker, more out of surprise than anything. I mean, honestly, how often do you hear an American accent on a British school train?

Two boys, about Gilbert's age, stepped out of their compartment, both looking seriously ticked off. They were obviously brothers, not quite identical twins but close. Both were tall and compactly built, their faces open with well formed features and glasses, and similar dishwater blonde hair, one wearing his a little past his chin, the other wearing his short. Gilbert had never seen them before. Who the hell... ?

"Back off, mate," the leader of the mob warned them. "This isn't none of your business."

"You mean isn't any. Grammar, newb. Learn it, live it, love it," the shorter-haired brother smirked. "And I think it is. I mean, a dozen guys against one? Not fair." As he talked, Gilbert noticed his brother begin to slip around the group, moving like a shadow, somehow attracting no attention. He came to a halt beside Gilbert, giving the teen a brief reassuring glance before his expression settled into a cold look, grabbing the one pinning Gilbert in a headlock and pulling him off.

Gilbert took the opportunity to jump up, standing next to the boy. The blonde was putting a bit of pressure on the jerk's windpipe, not enough to choke him, just enough to restrict his breathing a little and show him he meant business.

"Now I'm not one for violence," the second brother now spoke, his soft voice carrying the silent deadliness of cold with it. "But under the circumstances, I think I could make an exception." His grip tightened slightly, making the smaller brunette in his grip gag slightly, fear creeping into his hazel eyes. "A very big exception."

The group looked between the brothers, a few of them swallowing nervously when they realized they were sandwiched between them, the first brother grinning dangerously with a spark of gleeful violence in his eye, the second still holding the now struggling kid firmly and giving them that cold, emotionless look.

There was a tense silence, no one daring to move a muscle. Gilbert's dark eyes darted between various members of the gang and the two brothers, still breathing heavily.

The biggest one, apparently the leader, gave a grunt and gestured for the others to follow him, cooly sauntering off. The second brother next to him released the other boy and pushed him forward, the skinny brunette stumbling slightly before catching himself and rushing to catch up with the others, sending a frightened glance over his shoulder.

Once they were gone and out of sight, the two brothers relaxed, the shorter haired one giving a bark of laughter. "Pussies," he cackled. "Did you see us totally just intimidate them out of here? Priceless!"

The longer haired one however just turned to Gilbert, concern in his striking dark navy blue eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice much more pleasant now that it didn't sound like it was laced with poisoned icicles. Actually, it kind of reminded Gilbert of a fall breeze... "You're bleeding."

"Huh?" Gilbert's brow creased.

"Your lip," the boy elaborated, Gilbert's tongue darting out to cautiously run along his bottom lip, finding a small cut that tasted like copper. He lightly probed the tender area, finding it was already scabbing over. Huh, he must have bit his lip when he fell or something.

"I'm fine," Gilbert assured them, giving them a grin that expressed genuine gratitude. He accepted the tissue he was offered, dabbing blood away. "Thanks. I'm Gilbert Beilshmidt," he offered his hand to the longer haired brother first. His hand was clasped in a cool, firm grip, the boy giving him a small, warm smile.

"Matthieu Kirkland-Bonnefoy, but you can call me Matt," he replied. He jerked his head in the direction of his companion, continuing, "That retard over there is my twin brother, Alfred."

"Sup?" Alfred greeted with a sunny, beaming smile of his own, giving Gilbert a sloppy, off-handed salute.

Matt gestured in the direction the others had retreated in, inquiring, "Does that happen often?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Nothing I can't handle." Matt had an unconvinced look on his face, but didn't push it, Gilbert thankful for it. He changed the subject instead. "So who are you? I've never seen you before and you don't exactly strike me as first-years." Alfred gestured for Gilbert to follow, leading both him and his brother into their compartment. Gilbert glanced at the compartment, raising his pale eyebrow at the various unfamiliar muggle technologies and book spread out on the seats. Then he nearly jumped out of his skin with a very unmanly shriek, his crimson eyes wide.

"HOLY SHITE THERE'S A BEAR IN YOUR COMPARTMENT!"

Alfred laughed, Matt even smiling slightly in amusement as he gently put a calming hand on Gilbert's shoulder, reassuring him, "Relax, it's fine. That's Kuma, my pet. He's really a cat, but thanks to my dipstick of a brother, he's stuck looking like that. He's not dangerous, I promise." Kuma chose then to yawn widely, displaying two rows of very sharp, dangerous-looking teeth, obviously made for ripping apart flesh.

It did very little to help reassure Gilbert.

He gave the animal a wide berth, taking a seat across from it, keeping a wary eye on this 'Kuma'. "So, who are you? You still haven't answered," Gilbert pointed out as the brothers resumed their previous positions, Matt politely putting his distractions away while his brother simply resumed his game, zoning out again and leaving the other blonde to deal with their unexpected guest.

Matthieu rolled his eyes exasperatedly at Alfred but answered. "We're from the US, transferring here for our last two years. Our father went to Hogwarts and thinks that we need a 'proper education'." He rolled his eyes, making Gilbert snicker. "So here we are."

Gilbert grinned, leaning back in his seat. "What house are you guys hoping for?"

Now Matt looked confused. "House?"

The pale teen blinked at the American. "What, do you Americans not have houses?" When Matt shook his head no, he explained, "The student body is divided into four houses. The houses determine who is in charge of you, when you have your classes, which dormitory you sleep in, which Quiddich team you cheer for, what colors and crest you wear, and usually who you associate with. Which house you're in is decided at the welcoming feast in your first year by the Sorting Hat, a hat that can read your mind and figure out which house you're best suited for."

"That sounds stupid," Matt commented with a slight frown, making Gilbert grin. "Way to encourage cliques and segregation. How are you sorted?"

"Personality traits. Griffendors are brave, loyal, and rule-abiding. Ravenclaws are smart, with a drive to learn. My brother is a Ravenclaw. Huffelpuffs are basically everyone that doesn't fit into any of the other houses, though they're supposed to be hardworking and loyal."

"What are you?" Matt inquired.

Gilbert looked away, shrugging. "Slytherin."

"I hope I get Slytherin, then." Gilbert blinked, shocked. No one ever hoped for Slytherin anymore. Being Slytherin meant automatic exclusion from anything that didn't involve your house and everyone assuming your were a stuck-up, evil bully whose only future course was to be a dark wizard. Being Slytherin was a social death sentence if you didn't click with the other Slytherins.

"Me too," Alfred piped up, looking up from his game and grinning. "You seem pretty cool, Gilbert, it'd suck to be in a different house and have people tell us that we can't be friends with you."

A lump formed in Gilbert's throat, his vision getting a little blurry, his chest grew tight. He fiercely held back tears. They wanted to be... friends? With him?

Thankfully Alfred saved him from answering for his strange reaction. "Dude, you totally have a freaky little bird on your head."

Gilbert smiled and reached up to carefully pick Gilbird up, cradling the fuzzball in his palm and holding him out. "This is my owl, Gilbird."

Alfred snorted. "Dude, that thing's way too small to be an owl. Besides, aren't owls brown? That one's bright yellow."

"Alfred," Matt scolded his brother, reaching out to lightly pet Gilbird's head.

Gilbert just shrugged, however. "He's a Long-whiskered owlet, one of the smallest owl species in the world. He's yellow because he has a birth defect, like me."

Matt smiled. "I think he's cute."

"You're such a girl, Matt," Alfred snickered.

"Fat ass," Matt easily shot back, making his brother gasp and adopt a mock offended expression.

"Take that back! I am in great shape!" the other brother ordered Matt.

Matt looked at him, replying in a mock apologetic tone, "You're right. Round is totally a shape."

Gilbert couldn't help bursting out laughing, the twins paying him no mind. "Oh it is so on," Alfred declared, miming pulling off a set of gloves and throwing them to the floor.

Matt just grinned and pounded his chest. "Bring it on, bitch."

The British teen could only sit back and watch in amusement. As the two Americans playfully threw insults back and forth, Gilbert observed his strange company. At first glance, you could assume they were identical twins, but a few differences easily set them apart. Matt seemed to be a bit taller than Alfred, only a half inch or so. He was also a smidge paler than Alfred, allowing the few freckles on his cheeks to stand out better. Where Alfred's dirty blonde hair leaned more toward a wheat blonde, Matt's was closer to a dark strawberry blonde. Matt's features were also the slightest bit more elegant than his brother's, giving him a more refined look.

Their biggest difference, however, was their eyes. Alfred's eyes were a sapphire blue with the barest touches of lighter blues, bright with good humor. Matt's, however, were the darkest navy blue, swirls of indigo and violet darkening them even further, their depths warm with kindness.

Gilbert smiled softly, petting his owl.

Suddenly his year was looking up.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm backkkkk~ And this time I've got a huge honkin' chapter with me!

(Seriously, don't expect all the chapters to be like this. This one just ran ahead of me and I COULDN'T STOP IT _)

Guest: Thanks so much! Don't worry, Gilbert will come out of his shell soon. ; )

* * *

Matt and Alfred waved goodbye to their new friend as he went off to join the others wearing the green and silver crest on their black robes, the paler teen waving back with a bright grin. Matt couldn't help but notice that no one greeted him when he joined the group, and he stayed a bit away from everyone else.

He didn't get the chance to really ponder it, however, as Alfred had grabbed his sleeve and was dragging him along toward a small giant of a man with a bushy salt-and-pepper beard and massive trench coat holding a lantern and calling, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" in his booming voice. Both twins jumped when he shouted their names. "Oi, you Alfred and Ma'hieu?" They hesitantly nodded. "Well geh on a boat!"

They climbed into a rickety looking boat with two nervous looking eleven-year-olds, the girl looking like she was on the verge of vomiting, the boy not far behind. They, like the other kids in the boats, had no crest on their robes, all of them missing the striped ties that the elder students wore.

"Who are you?" the boy asked, tilting his auburn head curiously.

"I'm Alfred, and I'm a hero!" Alfred replied with an easy grin, earning small smiles from the two smaller kids. The girl cautiously reached out to touch Kuma's snout, the cat lazily observing her from his place cradled in Matt's arms.

She hesitated just short of Kuma's snout, asking shyly, "Can I pet it?" Matt nodded, smiling gently. She lightly stroked the soft fur, smiling a little wider. The boy joined her after a moment, both looking much less nervous now. Everyone gasped lightly when the boats suddenly moved on their own, gliding across the lake they were on. A second collective gasp came when they caught their first glimpse of the castle, colored lights decorating the windows.

"It looks like something from a Halloween movie," Matt whispered dryly to his brother.

"Shut up, Canuck. It looks awesome," Alfred whispered back, childish excitement shining in his face.

When the boats beached on the opposite shore, they all climbed out of their boats and followed the giant, the man leading the small herd of children to the massive front doors of the castle. There stood a man with curly dark brown hair and sleepy green eyes, his warm olive skin complemented by the white and red robe he wore. All kinds of cats surrounded him. He didn't seem to notice them.

"Here they are, Professor, safe and sound," the giant said respectfully.

"Thank you, Hagrid," he replied, his voice languid and deep, bowing his head slightly. "You may go now." The giant, Hagrid, nodded and left, going inside. The man looked down at them, studying each face in turn for a few minutes before turning to lead them inside, into a plain room. "You may wait here. You will be sent for shortly." After he was gone, the students began to mill around, talking lowly, more than one curious or confused glance being sent in the direction of Alfred and Matt.

After a few minutes, the man returned. "Line up single file," he instructed. "Stay together now." And then he lead them into the Great Hall. It was massive and lit by candlelight, reminding Matthieu of an old Gothic church. The ceiling above them looked like the night sky outside, five tapestries hanging from the walls. One was red and gold, with an emblem of a lion; another was green and silver with a snake; the third was yellow and black with a badger; and the last was blue and bronze with a bird of some kind. The one in the center dominated the others, a fusion of the other four, with a violet background.

They were led down the center aisle, coming to stand before the raised dais where a tableful of adults, presumably the staff, sat. The giant was among them. The man set a stool down in clear view of the student tables, plopping a worn, plain looking hat down on it. Matt raised an eyebrow when a rip near the brim opened and it began to sing, but paid little attention to the song. He grew a little uncomfortable under the stares being sent his way thanks to Kuma, lightly touching the invisibility charm he wore under his robes, the stares sliding off him as the enchantment took effect.

When the song finished, the sleepy man picked it up again and called, "When your name is called, come forward, sit on the stool, and you will be sorted. When your house is called, go sit at the appropriate table."

He opened a scroll, making Alfred whisper to Matt, "Parchment? Christ, this place is ancient." The man began to call out names in alphabetical order. Eventually, he came to the twins.

"Kirkland-Bonnefoy, Alfred!"

Alfred flashed his brother a grin and fist-bumped him, Matt whispering, "Good luck, Freddie."

"Ditto, bro." With that, Alfred trotted up to the stool, taking a seat. The man gingerly set the hat on Alfred's head. For several minutes, there was hushed silence. Finally, the rip opened again and the hat called, "GRIFFENDOR!"

Alfred looked the smallest bit crestfallen as he went to sit at the table decorated with red and gold. The moment he was sitting, the man called out the next name.

"Kirkland-Bonnefoy, Matthieu!"

Matt took a deep breath, approaching the stool and sitting on it. This time, the hat was placed on his own head.

_Ah, yet another interesting case._

Matt jumped a little at the unexpected voice. You can talk to me, Mr. Hat? he hesitantly thought back.

_Indeed I can. Now where shall I put you? Hm, half-blooded, hardworking, loyal, intelligent, self-sacrificing, yet sneaky and willing to lie. Oh yes, you're very sneaky, very cautious, very clever... You hide in plain sight, and don't trust quickly... Why you could go to any of the houses... It's always so much more difficult to place elder students, they all develop past their base traits... what do you think, boy?_

_Um... if you don't mind, Mr. Hat, I'd prefer Slytherin..._

_Slytherin, eh?... ah, I see. You want to help that most unfortunate Beilshmidt boy. Very well, I don't see why you can't be a..._

"SLYTHERIN!"

There were hushed gasps and whispers from several tables, but when Matt looked to his brother Alfred just gave him a thumbs-up and grin, and when Matt looked over to the Slytherin table, Gilbert was beaming at him. Matt found himself smiling back as he walked to the table, taking a seat across from Gilbert even though it meant him being separated from the other students a little. The candlelight threw Gilbert's features into sharp relief, making his already pointed, fox-like face seem cartoonishly sharp, his exotic red eyes turning a deeper rusty color in the dimness with drops of ruby where the flames reflected in them.

There was only four kids after Matt, and when they had been sorted appropriately- Ravenclaw, Huffelpuff, Huffelpuff, Slytherin- a stern looking woman with her gray-streaked brown hair back in a severe bun and a pair of small spectacles perched on her nose stood and gestured without a word, a fabulous feast appearing before everyone. "Enjoy," she said crisply.

Without further ado, everyone dug in.

"Wow, I didn't actually think you'd get Slytherin, Matt," Gilbert laughed as he piled food onto his plate. For once, he actually had an appetite. "You struck me as more of a Huffelpuff, to be honest."

Matt shrugged, setting a small plate of shredded chicken in front of Kuma. "I managed to talk the hat into it."

Gilbert shook his head. "Twins in Slytherin and Griffendor. I never thought it could happen."

A questioning look was sent Gilbert's way, the paler teen explaining quickly, "Griffendor and Slytherin are long-time enemies. The last time two brothers were put in Griffendor and Slytherin was back before the First War, with Sirius and Regulus Black. House rivalries tore them apart, and they hated each other. I don't think they ever resolved their differences." Matt snorted.

"That's as stupid as hating each other over which sports team you cheer for," Matt declared. "That's not gonna happen to us, trust me."

Gilbert sent him a doubtful look but didn't argue. Instead, he asked, "Hey Matt, what was that weird little white thing you were messing with earlier?"

"Huh? Oh, you mean my MP3?" He reached into his pocket and withdrew the small device, holding it up. Gilbert nodded. "It's a personal music player. Here, put these over your ears." He held out the headphones, Gilbert taking them and carefully putting them over his ears like he had been instructed. "Now what would you like to listen to?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Whatever you like." Matt smiled and clicked a few buttons before music began to filter through the headphones. The Brit found himself boping along to the song, smiling at the upbeat tune. Matt smiled as he watched Gilbert do a silly little sitting-down dance to Harry Belafonte's 'Jump the Line'. The rest of the feast was spent introducing Gilbert to the wonderful world of North American muggle music as they ate, ignoring the strange glances sent their way.

Finally, everyone had eaten their fill, even bottomless-pit-for-a-stomach-Alfred, the stern woman standing again and making the leftovers disappear. "Welcome, everyone, to the new school year. I am Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. This year, we have two transfer students from Salem Academy, Alfred and Matthieu Kirkland-Bonnefoy. Please do your best to make them feel welcome and ease their transition into this new place. Also, after the several incidents of trespassing into the Forbidden Forest last year, I am forced to inform you all that not only is the Forbidden Forest strictly out of bounds to all whom are not accompanied by a teacher, but any student whom is caught will be given a month of detention with me. Any student whom is caught five or more times will be suspended for however long I deem appropriate." Her steely eyes swept over the students, continuing after she had let that sink in. "Now it is late. Goodnight, all. Will the house prefects please escort their students to the dormitories?"

A tall boy, about seventeen, stood up, the Slytherin first-years scurrying after him, older students following more sedately. Matt followed Gilbert, the other leading him in the opposite direction of the other Slytherins, down a flight of stairs and through several winding hallways, eventually coming to a portrait of a man, the portrait labeled 'Friedrich der Grosse'.

"Ah, Mr. Beilshmidt," the portrait said brightly in a thick accent. "Dawdling again?"

"Just trying to avoid trouble on the first day," Gilbert replied.

That earned a dry smile from the painting, Friedrich replying, "Good lad. Who's your friend? A new Slytherin?"

Gilbert nodded. "Matt, this is King Friedrich the Second, also known as Fritz the Great, the greatest King of Prussia. Fritz, this is Matthieu Kirkland-Bonnefoy, a transfer from the Americas. He and his brother saved me from getting my ass kicked on the train."

Matt smiled pleasantly and bowed slightly, respectfully greeting, "It is a pleasure to meet you, sir."

Fritz smiled. "And you as well. I like him, Gilbert, he knows how to build bridges. Though I am curious on how he managed to talk McGonagall into allowing a bear as a pet."

"Kuma's actually a cat," Matt explained. "My twin brother accidentally enchanted him to look like a bear when we were seven. I simply didn't mention my cat happened to look like a bear. It does come in handy on occasion, though, I must admit," he shrugged, earning a laugh from the painting.

"I imagine it would. Well, it's late lads. You should head off to your dorm before you get in trouble. Do you know the password yet?" Gilbert shook his head no. "It's 'emerald'."

"Thanks Fritz. Goodnight," Gilbert thanked the portrait, bowing slightly, Matt copying him.

"Goodnight lads."

With that Gilbert turned to the wall opposite Fritz's painting, Gilbert saying "Emerald," firmly to the blank wall. The wall slid away to reveal a doorway, the boys going through it into a deserted living room like room, the place done in gloomy greens and blacks, the windows tinted a dark green. Gilbert led Matt to a staircase, both ascending. They passed several doors, each bearing four names. Finally, they came to one that had both their names on it. Gilbert grinned. "Awesome, we get to room together!" he cheered.

They went in, finding a room illuminated dimly by a low green-flamed fire, two of the beds apparently occupied with the curtains drawn, the other two empty with the covers turned down. Matt went to the bed with his trunk(brand new, Matt personally would have prefered his trusty duffel bag but his father had insisted on a trunk), his backpack, and Kuma's carrier at the foot of it. Gilbert's had only a trunk. The paler teen flopped onto his bed with a weary groan, lazily kicking off his shoes while Gilbird claimed a smaller pillow off to the side for himself, settling like it was a nest.

Matt inspected his allotted space. There was the full-sized bed with several soft pillows and a thick green quilt, green brocade curtains waiting to be drawn closed around it. A small bedside table made of dark laquered wood with silver handles and other bits sat to the right of his bed, holding a lamp, probably for late-night reading or something. A small chest of drawers made of the same materials as the table sat to the left, probably for holding clothes. "Nice," he mumbled to himself.

Not feeling ready to go to bed yet, Matt shed his robe, leaving himself in his black slacks and white button-up, neatly folding it and setting it in one of the chest drawers. He flipped open the trunk, distributing his belongings to thier new places. Gilbert sleepily watched him, rousing himself only to ask, "Who's that?" when Matt tacked up a poster of a man in a bulky red and white uniform holding some kind of stick.

"Brian Gionta," Matt answered. "He's the captain of the Montreal Canadiens."

"Are they a sports team?" Gilbert ventured.

Matt nodded. "Yeah, hockey." When Gilbert just gave him a confused look, he added, "I'll explain some other time." As Matt lined up a small selection of paperbacks on top of the dresser, he asked, "Hey Gilbert, does the library here have a good fiction selection?"

Gilbert snorted. "Not really. The library here is mostly just informational and reference."

"Damn. Oh well, I guess I can get my Mom to send me some more when I finish these," Matt shrugged. Finally, he pulled a flag from his trunk, tacking it onto the wall above the head of his bed, the bold red and white standing out and clashing with the darker colors around it.

"Canadian?" Gilbert commented, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you were American."

"Technically I'm both," Matt said. "So is Alfred. I identify more closely with our Canadian heritage, Al's more American. We were actually born in Quebec, near the Canadian-American border. Our mother is a Quebecois, so insisted we spend at least some of our childhood there. We lived near Montreal until Alfred and I were fourteen, when we immigrated and moved to Massachusetts so we could attend Salem Academy, the best magic prep school on the north-eastern coast, though we still spend a portion of our summers in Quebec. And now we've been shipped off here."

"Hm," was Gilbert's only sleepy reply.

Finished decorating, Matt turned instead to his school supplies, tucking every book he might need into his battered but trusty faded red backpack, along with his laptop(spelled to be extra sturdy), a few notebooks, and pens. Gilbert raised an eyebrow at the strange selection of school supplies but didn't comment, just watched as Matt chose a new white button-down shirt and pair of black jeans, setting them on top of his trunk with a robe that now bore the crest of Slytherin house and a green and silver striped tie. Satisfied, Matt stripped down to his boxers, pulling on a tanktop and pair of red flannel PJ pants. Digging around in the pockets of his slacks, Matt extracted his wallet, keys(even now he kept them handy), cell phone, wand, and glasses cleaning cloth, setting them in the drawer of his bedside table with his MP3.

Matt observed his area again, smiling in satisfaction. There, now that was a little more homey. He crawled into his bed, pulling up his covers and petting Kuma when the cat curled up next to him. He looked over at the drawer when 'I'm Awesome' began to play quietly, Matt reaching over and digging around for his cell phone, flipping it open to view Alfred's text.

_hey bro! how r u seetlin in?_

Matt took a moment to cringe and send a prayer for the slowly dying English language before typing his reply.

_Just finished unpacking. Almost gone to bed. Wanna see?_

_hell yeah!_

Matt smiled and got up again, moving to stand at the foot of his bed, making sure he got his whole area in the shot before taking a picture with his camera and sending it to his brother.

_nice, bro, but mom would have a heart attack if she saw that clashing with the flag + ur room._

_Probably, but what Mom doesn't know won't hurt her. How about you?_

A minute later a picture came through, Matt opening it to see a space similar to his own, just differently colored with a lot more clutter. Matt chuckled. Not here for twenty four hours yet and already Alfred was well on his way to recreating his disaster of a room back home.

_Cool. Meet anyone worth mentioning yet?_

_sides Gil? Well, theres this cute chick named Mei, I think shes into me. & 2 of her bros, Yong&Kiku are prety fun. & this guy Danny brought a shit-ton of licker+beer too. U?_

_No, I spent basically the whole evening with Gilbert. Though there was this cool painting named Fritz Gilbert introduced me to._

Matt glanced at the clock in the upper right-hand corner of his phone, wincing when he noticed it read 11:15.

_I think I'm gonna turn in, Freddie. See you in the morning, ok?_

_k bro. Night_

_Night._


	4. Chapter 4

Hello, all, and welcome to the next chapter! Hope you have a pleasant stay!

Guest: Also Denmark! Yep, expect some Awesome Trio at some point! :D

Note: Now, I mentioned before that North American magical schooling and culture is vastly removed from the world of Hogwarts, and there will be slang and concepts that the brothers use throughout the story that belong to their version of magical culture. I will do my best to explain them as they come up.

In this chapter:

"Showdog": essentially slang for purebloods. Specifically, it refers to people who place high value on linage purely for vanities sake. Like pedigree showdogs. (How's that for wit?) They are noted for considering themselves 'too good' for most muggle pursuits.

mag . something: In this world, there's a series of magical websites that closely mirror the muggle web, created mostly by witch/wizard college students and used primarily by North American wizards/witches. Magical websites deal with magical information and the magical community and are not actually magical. They are denoted by the prefix "mag."

* * *

The following morning found Gilbert and Matthew sitting at the Slytherin table, quietly working their way through their breakfasts as other students slowly trickled in. It wasn't long before Alfred appeared, looking annoyingly perky for seven thirty in the morning. He plopped down next to Matt, snagging a pastry from the center of the table. "Man, I am loving this place's food," he commented, licking a bit of powdered sugar from his cheek. "You guys get your schedules yet?"

Matt nodded, handing his to his brother so he could compare. Alfred grinned happily when he found that they shared basically every class, thanks to their similar class selections and the school deciding that Slytherins and Griffendors should share basically every class. "Gilbert has a lot of the same classes as I do," Matt added.

"Awesome," Alfred grinned, handing Matt his schedule back.

"Why Merlin preserve us," a haughty, sarcastic voice broke in, three sets of eyes turning to see a pale-skinned brunette boy with glasses and nearly purple eyes, dressed in the Slytherin crest and colors. "A high and mighty Griffendor has decided to grace our most unworthy table with his presence."

"Back off, Edelstein," Gilbert growled, glaring at the boy.

"Shut your mouth, freak," the boy, apparently called Edelstein, snapped at Gilbert, turning a cold look to the even paler teen.

"You shut up, dick," Alfred stepped in, frowning at Edelstein. "What do you got against Gilbert, anyway?"

Edelstein made a face. "Don't you know? He's the next Dark Lord."

Both brothers merely looked confused. "Next what?" Alfred asked. "That sounds like a Sith."

Now it was Edelstein's turn to look confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"Al," Matt drew the attention of his brother. "I think he's pure-bred. Remember? Dad said magic and Muggles don't mix much here."

"Oooohhhhh, right," Alfred nodded, recalling their father's brief cultural differences lesson before they left. He rolled his eyes. "Even worse than the showdogs. Of course they don't like the fun stuff. Still, what's a Dark Lord?"

Edelstein huffed a disbelieving laugh, smile cruel. "So that's how you managed to get them to even talk to you," he sneered. "They don't have any idea, do they? Well, enjoy them while they last, freak."

Shaking his head and snickering to himself, Edelstein turned in a dramatic swirl of robes and swept away.

Gilbert studiously avoided the gazes of the brothers, staring instead at his half-finished plate.

Suddenly he didn't want it anymore.

Matthew carefully watched his new friend, puzzling over the encounter. Gilbert seemed to curl in on himself, his expression becoming closed off and avoiding eye contact.

"What a douchebag," Alfred grumbled. "Assholes like that all need a good punch to the face." While his brother ranted about Edelstein, completely oblivious to the fact that neither Gilbert or Matt were really listening, Matt pulled his laptop out and opened a web browser. It automatically opened to mag . Google . com. He typed "Dark Lord" into the search bar.

_About 69,300 results (0.46 seconds)_

_mag . wikipedia wiki / Voldemort_

**_Lord Voldemort_**

_Lord Voldemort, born Tom Marvollo Riddle, and commonly called either "The Dark Lord" or "He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named"..._

_mag . oldworldnews Voldemort's_War_for_Revenge / 059Z9T9y483_

_**Voldemort's War for Revenge** by Gary Johnson_

_The war for England lasted for approximately three years, though the British Ministry of Magic denied its existence for much of that..._

_mag . modernmagicalhistory voldemort_and_WW2_

**_Voldemort and Hitler; Same Evil, Different Name_**

**_A Study in Comparisons by Dr. Gina Hart_**

_When we compare and contrast the Second Wizarding War with the Second World War..._

Matt frowned. He clicked on the Wikipedia page. It loaded quickly. In the upper right-hand corner of the page, there was a picture. It was slightly blurry and pixelated, but it was clear enough.

Pale, nearly white, skin. Blood red eyes. Cold sneer. Pointed, narrow features.

It didn't take much to connect the dots.

"Alfred."

Matthew's serious tone made the slightly older twin immediately pause in his rant, sky blue eyes focusing on twilight blue. Matthew slid the laptop over to him.

"... oh."

There was silence for a few minutes.

"You're not Voldemort, Gilbert."

Matthew's quiet declaration made the paler boy's head snap up, red eyes wide with shock and more than a little curiosity.

"H-how...?" he shakily tried to ask. Matt pushed the laptop over towards him, letting him see the web page.

After giving him a minute to absorb what was on the screen, Matt repeated, "You're not Voldemort, Gilbert."

Gilbert scoffed, still avoiding Matt and Al's gazes. "It doesn't matter. I look like him. I might as well be him."

"Now that's the biggest bunch of bullshit I've heard since our mother stopped trying to convince us that babies come from storks and cabbage patches." The frank statement was enough to startle a laugh out of Gilbert. Matt grinned slightly himself. Ah-ha! Progress. "Take it from someone who shares a face with someone who's so different they got the opposite house; physical resemblance doesn't mean anything. Sure, there's similarities, but that doesn't mean you're the same person. Only you get to decide who you are."

The platinum blonde finally lifted his crimson eyes to flick between Alfred and Matthew, both wearing bright, sincere smiles. Cautiously, he smiled weakly back. "Thanks," he mumbled. Matt slung an arm around his shoulders, giving the slightly older boy a short one-armed hug.

"Don't mention it."

"Whoo, you're hanging with the Kirkland-Bonnefoy brothers now, Gilbo!" Alfred laughed, offering a fist to bump over the table. When Gilbert just looked at him strangely, he quickly explained, "Brofist. Or a fistbump. Or a knucklepunch. You each make a fist and bump your knuckles together." Matt demonstrated, completing Alfred's fistbump.

Gilbert still looked dubious, but tapped his fist against Alfred's anyway.

Matt chuckled, checking his watch. 7:96. "First class is in a couple minutes. We should get going."


End file.
